First Kiss Just Like a Drug
by cuppacoughee
Summary: The first time Santana kisses Brittany, it progresses.


The first time Santana kisses Brittany, it progresses.

Quinn's family throws a back-to-school barbecue every year, and though it's really just a pointless gathering so that all of the high schoolers are forced to exchange awkward 'hello's' and their parents can see how rich the Fabray's are, Santana's actually looking forward to it this year.

Maybe it's partially because she knows that Brittany will be there, and they haven't spoken all summer due to their non-accommodating cheer schedules. Her summer has been the most boring thing in the world, consisting of Netflix marathons and tanning with Quinn, so it's nice to have something to look forward to.

Okay, seeing Brittany is actually the _only_ reason that she's interested in the event, but nobody needs to know that.  
>As far as the glee kids are concerned, she's totally pissed about being forced to interact with nerds like them, and she'd rather be scraping gum off the bottoms of her cheer shoes.<p>

Right.

Plus, her moms making that special desert she likes, so it's a win-win.

-

When the day of the barbecue rolls around, Santana's so excited she can't think straight.

Her favorite lipgloss has been misplaced, and she's running around her room like a moron, picking up eyeshadows and panties that have been skewed across the floor. (When Santana gets happy, things get thrown.)

She's picked out a tight strapless blue shirt and a pair of light wash jeans, paired with a pair of converse she digs up from the back of her closet. Maybe it's not her usual wear, but she saw a chick in a magazine with the same outfit on, and she was smoking. Not in a gay way, but in a normal way, politely (and gratefully) admiring her ass in the tight jeans. That's just being a good citizen, if you ask Santana.

The makeup is applied a short while after, and when her hair is straightened just the way she likes it, this barbecue is a go. Santana practically pushes her parents out the door and down the driveway, urging them to hurry up.

"You've never been this excited for a Fabray gathering, mija," Mrs. Lopez comments as they pull out of the driveway. The smell of her mouthwatering desert is messing with Santana's head, and it takes a second for her to realize what she just said.

"I just want to get it over with," Santana responds. Her moms eyes catch hers in the mirror and she shrugs, hoping that she doesn't realize the real reason she's eager to get over there. But, not really taking the time to analyze her daughters behavior, Mrs. Lopez smiles and looks out the window.

-

Upon their arrival, Santana is nearly tackled by an over-excited Tina and an even more enthusiastic Mercedes.

"Hey," Santana says awkwardly, half-heartedly wrapping her arms around Tina's waist as she kicks her shoes off into the corner. Her mom chuckles and walks past her through the front door, heading straight towards Mrs. Fabray and Mrs. Chang.

"It feels like forever since I've seen you!" Mercedes squeals, grinning like an idiot. Santana smiles over Tina's shoulder, and believe it or not, it's actually a genuine gesture. Something about being greeted by two people who are actually pleased to see her is getting to the Latina, turning her usual horribly rude attitude into a semi-sweet one. Bite her for it.

When the hug festival is over, Tina and Mercedes both drag Santana into the backyard. Many familiar faces give her heart-felt grins as she passes, Finn and Mr. Hummel even stopping the girls for a minute to exchange a few words and questions about their summers. Santana actually- okay, wait for it- _smiled_at Finnocence. Is the heat getting to her?

But, since the Fabray's most likely have some high-tech air conditioning, she just allows Tina and Mercedes to continue pulling her along behind them until they're standing on the back porch.

The wood beneath Santana's feet is familiar from the past summers where her, Brittany, and Quinn would drink slushies and play board games under the glowing summer sun. A time when nobody was worried about boys, slushies weren't used as weapons, and there was no competition between either of the three girls; only friendship.

So, when Santana spots Quinn and Puck kissing in the corner of the large yard, she's ready to do some major bitching to the both of them. _Major._ She knows that Quinn knows her and Puck had a thing, and that it goes against, like, the girl code or whatever to kiss somebody that your best friend already dated. How dare she?

Her legs are getting ready to move, and her fists are clenching and unclenching in a quick motion, and she can feel the anger pumping through her veins as she steps towards the edge of the deck, swinging her foot onto the warm grass of Quinn's yard. "I'll get the bastard," Santana whispers to herself, the vision of her fist flying into Puck's nose flashing to her mind as-

"Let go, Tina," Santana growls, eyes still fixed on Puck as she tries to pull her wrist away from the warm hand that's just grabbed hold of it. She feels her ears turn hot out of jealousy when Quinn flings her arms across Puck's broad shoulders, and she tries to pull away again, but the grip has tightened.

_Girl Chang got strong,_ she thinks to herself as she pulls one more time, still unsuccessful at loosening Tina's grip. With a hiss of frustration she whirls around on her heel, immediately regretting it as she feels the wood tear into her skin, and she's getting even more pissed as she spins around and the person holding onto her comes into view.

Oh my God.

When she first sees Brittany's face, her stomach turns over and she feels like she might puke. Looking around quickly, she realizes that Mercedes and Tina have disappeared, leaving her and Brittany on the middle of the porch, all of the other spread out around the Fabray mini-mansion.

It's not even just the sight of Brittany that's throwing her off. Well, okay, some of it is: those ocean-colored eyes, the pale skin, the freckles dotting the bridge of her nose, blonde hair cascading across hers shoulders. It's a bit off-putting, but the main thing that's restricting the words from tumbling out of her mouth is that, her amazingly beautiful and (wow, did her boobs grow?) perfect best friend still has a hold on her wrist.

Santana's eyes travel from the top of Brittany's face and down her body, trailing across her arm and to where their skin is touching. Brittany still has a strong grip on her wrist, and even though she knows it's starting to hurt, it doesn't matter.

It's like she's not even standing on the Fabray's porch as she looks back up to Brittany's face and sees her own emotions reflected in the deep blue pools. Her head spins as she thoughtlessly moves her free hand to cover the Brittany's hand that's still holding her wrist, and, still looking into her eyes, she leans forward.

So far forward, their breaths connect into the air.

So far forward, she can smell Brittany's vanilla-scented lotion that she knows she likes to spread across her collarbones.

So far forward, she could count the exact number of eyelashes the blonde has.

So far forward, the when she finally leans in and their lips brush, just slightly, she knows what she's doing. And she doesn't care. Santana knows that they both risk being caught by anybody at anytime, that the oh-so-religious Mrs. Fabray could walk in on them any second, that she might be surprising Brittany, especially since they've never done anything more than link pinkies and that they haven't even spoken since school let out. She knows all of this.

Yet she doesn't care the tiniest bit.

Before Brittany can even open her mouth to press her lips fully against Santana's, the Latina's holding her hips firmly, one hand on each. _God,_ her body is so damn amazing that even her hips make Santana want her.

Their tongues invade each others mouths, sliding together gently and soothingly. Santana thinks its damn near criminal that they've never done this before, since they're both sexy as Hell, and she's pretty sure if Puck or Finn or any other guys have seen them by now, there's no doubt a bulge in their pants.

Santana backs Brittany into the wall, momentarily forgetting about her injured foot as they move across the deck together. She uses her hands to make sure Brittany's back doesn't touch the wall because a) she doesn't want to get her shirt dirty (it looks hot as hell), and b) that might make a noise inside of the house, resulting in them getting caught.

But nobody catches them as Santana continues to kiss her, and Brittany kisses back just as eagerly, mouths melding together in a hot mess. She's enjoying the way their breasts are pushed together, and thank God for the extra-padded bra she's wearing, because otherwise she knows that Brittany would feel the hardness of her nipples against her.

When the moan escapes Brittany's mouth, though, Santana feels a surge of wetness in between her legs, and she knows that this make-out session is going to need to relocate to a more private venue. As hard as it is, she forces herself to pull away from Brittany's lips and is met with an intense cloudy look in the blonde's eyes.

The strangled groan that comes from Santana next is embarrassingly loud and needy. Brittany smirks at the effect she has on the girl, and before she can get a chance to say something that will totally kill the moment, Santana's grabbing her hand and pulling her down the side steps of the porch that lead towards the gate.

"My car's unlocked," she throws over her shoulder. Santana's sure if she turned around, she would see a smile to match the lust in Brittany's eyes, but if she wishes to actually make it back to the car without creaming her pants or injuring her foot worse she has to look forward.

The latch on the Fabray's fence is easy to undo and Santana holds it open for Brittany, motioning for the girl to go towards her car. The blonde girl nods and starts down the driveway, pointed towards Mr. Lopez's little black volvo parked against the curb.

Santana hops down part of the driveway, only half-realizing the pain that's rippling through her foot, but getting laid by Brittany is much more of a big deal to her, so she powers through it and yanks open the back door, stumbling forward on top of Brittany.

Her clumsy action turns out to be an alright move because now, all she has to do is lean forward slightly to connect their lips once more. Brittany whimpers at the much-needed contact, her hands flying to massage the small of Santana's back as their hungry kiss resumes.

They break apart once more, Santana's doing, and the Latina's sits up halfway so that she can look into Brittany's eyes without having to cross her own. "You do wanna, like.. Do _it,_ right?"

Brittany giggles lightly and nods quickly, nearly knocking heads with Santana at the clumsy motion. "Sorry," she whispers, a smile playing across her lips.

"'Sokay," Santana mumbles as she leans down again to capture Brittany's mouth in a searing kiss, readjusting her bottom half so that she's straddling the girls waist. Their tongues move together, fighting for dominance, and Santana can taste the minty taste from the orbit gum Brittany always taste. She knows her _that_ well.

Her hands glide up the taller girls body, passing the sides of her belly and continuing up to her chest. She skims the tops of her breasts, earning a whimper from Brittany, before traveling up to her collarbone and massaging the soft skin there with the pads of her fingers.

"Please," Brittany whimpers, urging her on. Santana smiles to herself, realizing it's their first time doing this together, and Brittany's already begging. Wow.

"What do you want?" She purrs in her ear, allowing her tongue to wet the soft shell of it. Brittany squirms slightly, eyes squeezing at the need to feel something between her legs, breathing becoming more shallow.

"Touch.. Me," Brittany manages, head flopping hard against the leather seat. With a self-impressed smile, she slides down the blonde's body, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

Like she said early, this is their _first_ time, and Santana wants to be.. Gentle. She wants to remember it, but at the same time, she doesn't want to think about things. She just wants to do it. So, as her fingers work at Brittany's belt buckle and lift her shirt, she presses soft kisses to the smooth skin of her stomach, placing one on each defined ab.

Luckily, the belt is easy to undo (thank God), and she has it off in near no time. Before she can slide the blonde's pants down, though, she feels warm fingers unintentionally tickling her stomach, and, getting the hint, pulls her own belt off too.

The jeans come next. Then the shirts, and the bras, which are replaced by curious hands. Cupping, caressing, pinching, everything that feels good and stimulates breasts, they do. Santana's getting wetter by the moment, and, in her current position with her center pressed against Brittany's thigh, she's almost positive she's leaking onto the girl.

Brittany confirms this thought by groaning and pushing her thigh harder against Santana's core, making the Latina squeak in pleasure. "Shit," she hisses as she feels Brittany's fingers creeping down towards the top of her panties.

It's not like she can really fight it. The blonde's narrow fingers pull forward the elastic on her panties and she lets go of them, letting them snap against Santana's skin teasingly. "Britt," she whines, her need to be filled stronger that it ever has been. _It's never been like this with Puck._

"How's this," Brittany whispers as she finally dips underneath the wet material, fingers slipping down into the wet heat between Santana's legs. "God," Brittany moans as she drags a finger through the Latina's folds. "You're _so_ wet."

"All for you," Santana croaks weakly as Brittany adds a second finger through her wetness, not going in yet, but moistening them. She literally feels like she might explode if Brittany doesn't enter her soon, and, sensing that the blonde might feel the same way, she doesn't hesitate one bit as she lets her fingers travel into her panties, collecting wetness and dragging the pad of her index finger over her clit.

"Ohh," Brittany moans, immediately entering Santana with two fingers. "Yes, yes."

Santana lets out a huge sigh of relief at being filled. Even though Brittany's two fingers obviously aren't as thick as Puck, they're giving her just as much pleasure, and that's much more satisfying. The blonde thrusts knuckle-deep before pulling out and moving back in. Santana copies the motions, pumping in and out of Brittany, releasing desperate squeaks and moans.

The car is filled with a range of noises as the girls continue to grind and move against one another, the pressure multiplying deep in their stomachs. Santana's never felt this amazing before, even though she's had many orgasms, they've never been this physically and emotionally satisfying.

"Shit, Brittany," she cries, moving faster against the girls hand. "I'm close."

The blonde grunts and shifts her hand, angling it so her fingers hit deeper inside of Santana. "Me too," she gasps, and Santana is determined to watch Brittany's face as she falls apart, needs to see the look in her blue eyes as her orgasm hits her. And it turns out, she doesn't have to wait long.

The second Santana's orgasm hits, she stops moving on Brittany's fingers, letting out a wail of pleasure as her hips start to jerk. "Brittaaaaaany," she squeals, forcing herself to keep her eyes open.

Just the sight of Santana orgasming makes Brittany come, too, and before she knows it, her body is shaking underneath Santana's, noises erupting from her open mouth. "Fuck," she hisses, moving her free hand to Santana's shoulder, thumbing her clit with the other as she comes down.

Seeing Brittany come is the absolute best thing Santana's ever witnessed. Ever. The noises she makes, the way her eyes crinkle, the 'o' shape she makes with her mouth: beautiful. Santana smirks to herself, despite just having an orgasm, at the idea of rubbing one out to the mental images of Brittany underneath her, head tipped back in pleasure.

When they've both caught their breaths, and the car becomes awkwardly silent, Santana looks straight into Brittany's eyes, and even though they're both bare naked on the back seat of her dad's car, rocking the after-sex glow, she laughs.

_Laughs._

And after a few minutes of staring at the dark-haired girl like she's insane, Brittany laughs, too. A throaty laugh, one that you would commonly share at a sleepover after someone's just revealed their long-term crush on the school-nerd, but no. This laugh means much more than that: it's the mark of something new.

And even though Santana's not sure exactly what that something is, and whether or not it's something that will get her in trouble in the future, she's just gonna go with it. Because at least she's got Brittany.


End file.
